


moral crisis after please

by ehemond



Category: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, F/F, but like, clary is not a good assassin, we still love her though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23297107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ehemond/pseuds/ehemond
Summary: Clary is sent by the Clave to eliminate criminal mastermind Camille Belcourt. It should be a simple mission ending with Camille gone and the world better for it. Too bad nobody accounted for Clary's sexuality crisis immediately followed by a moral one.
Relationships: Camille Belcourt/Clary Fray
Kudos: 8





	moral crisis after please

Spotlights flashed around the club, music blared out of overhead speakers, bass pulsed through writhing bodies, and Clary hung onto the bar through it all, like a sailor on her last day ashore. Why was it her, of all people, that had the Clave going, “Oh, yes, her...she should be the one to kill the greatest criminal mastermind on this side of the Atlantic.” Was there something about her that just screamed cold-blooded killer?

Interrupting her musings, a drink was placed besides Clary and accompanied by a teasing voice, “You going anytime soon, killer? The most powerful person in the New York underworld is not going to kill themselves, you know.”

Clary took a small sip, “Ha, ha, very funny. I’m going to go. Eventually. Do not rush the process, Jace.”

The bartender held his hands up innocently, “Not rushing anything, on my honor.”

“Good.”

And yet Jace couldn’t help himself, “But, if it keeps on going the way it is, I think Belcourt is going to die from old age faster than anything you can do.”

Clary snorted, shaking her head, “Thanks, really,” Nevertheless, she knocked back her drink and stood. “I’m going.”

Jace grinned. “Good luck! Stay safe!”

Clary pretended not to hear him and began pushing her way through the mass of people crowding the dance floor. Immediately, she noticed a large concentration of clubbers circling around something. Shoving her way through while ignoring the dirty looks sent her way, Clary eventually began to approach the center to catch a flash of blonde, the source it would appear, of all the commotion.

A pair was dancing together, a woman and a man. Yet, Clary thought, dancing may have been a bit of an understatement. It was practically sex, or as close an approximation as possible with hundreds of eyes focused on the two. It made Clary feel like a voyeur, just from observing the two.

As the crowd’s frenzy fueled the pair further, the man appeared simply happy to be there while the woman made it seem as if he was simply an accessory to her show. “And what a show it is,” Clary murmured, as she finally made it to the front of the crowd and ignored the disgruntled mutters around her. The woman’s eyes were closed, and she moved as if controlled by the thrumming bass of the club. She was hypnotic, her movements practically daring anyone to match them. Although her partner was making an admirable effort, he couldn’t seem to rival her effortless gyrations.

Suddenly, the blonde shoved the man away from her and scanned the gathering around her. Like a miracle, she met Clary’s eyes and winked, gesturing for her to come closer. 

All her senses screamed at her to focus on the mission, get in, get out, and move on with her life, yet as if possessed, Clary couldn’t help but obey the unspoken command. 

_I know her_ , Clary thought, a hazy image flashing through her mind as she neared before revelation made her stumble, “Her,” Clary flustered even as the woman caught her with sure hands, spinning her around and pulling her close until Clary’s back met the blonde’s chest, “She’s the target,” Clary whispered. Indeed, the woman behind her was Camille Belcourt, foremost criminal on the East Coast and the same woman currently grinding onto Clary from behind.

It was dancing only in the technical sense of the term, Clary decided, if dancing meant sex in heels and whirlwind heat surrounding them, exploding every time their bodies met. Clary felt like a puppet maneuvered by a master as Camille’s hands found her waist and dominated the dance, using Clary as an extension of her own motions.

All at once, it came to a head when Camille pulled Clary to her in a spinning twirl that made Clary all but fall into Camille’s arms, gazing at pitch black eyes blazing with need. It was as if time ceased to move and all Clary’s senses had turned off from the club to focus entirely on Camille and her embrace.

“Perhaps my place?” Camille asked, softly, “I have so many plans and they all end with you spread out gloriously on my bed.”

Clary didn’t hesitate, “Please,” She sighed out breathlessly, flushed and delirious in the moment. Camille nodded, smirking to herself before pulling Clary towards the exit.

When the first breath of fresh air hit her lungs, it was as if the fog that had clouded her mind in the club finally cleared, yet Clary did not have time to enjoy her lucidity as Camille insistently tugged Clary towards her. “Come, I do not like to be kept waiting,” She ordered.

Helpless, all Clary could do was concede to Camille’s will and follow.

A car was waiting for them, so Camille swiftly opened the door before sliding inside and pulling Clary atop her lap. The haze of lust which had temporarily left Clary’s mind returned in an instant, slamming into her like a freight train as Clary stared briefly at Camille. 

Camille stared back, lips parted, eyes blown out and a flush working its way up her cheeks. The moment barely lasted for a second before breaking.

Impatiently, Camille pulled Clary down into a heated kiss, a hand on her neck holding her in place and the other sliding up her back. Clary, in turn, wrapped her arms around Camille and held on tightly, losing herself in the impression of Camille’s lips on hers.

At some point, the car started moving, but neither of them paid it any mind once Camille’s hands began wandering around Clary’s body. It seemed that everywhere her hands touched left a blazing trail of heat along Clary, igniting a desire she had not felt since that first sparring session with Izzy. The heat consumed her, and Clary was simply lost in the inferno.

Abruptly, the car stopped, and Clary’s body would’ve jolted backwards if not for Camille’s hands grounding her. All the same, Camille’s hips rolled forward with the movement, pressing against a burning heat between Clary’s thighs and her lips parted. Taking it as invitation, Camille’s tongue slipped into Clary’s mouth and they both moaned at the sensation.

They continued for a few moments, before Clary pushed Camille away and gasped, “Your place, right?”

Camille smirked in satisfaction, smugness coating her tone, “I did say that.” She pushed Clary aside in order to open the door before stepping out and offering Clary her hand.

Accepting it, the two made their way calmly into what Clary realized was the Hotel Dumort, the center of Camille’s criminal empire. The grandeur was near extreme, she noticed, but Camille was not savoring it or showing off. Instead, she threw a casual hello to the doorman and headed straight for the elevator, pulling Clary in after her.

Before the doors could even shut, Camille had Clary slammed up against the far wall and kissed her, Clary’s arms wresting on Camille’s shoulders, hands around her neck while Camille moved her hands up Clary’s dress. Throwing her head back, Clary groaned as Camille’s lips left hers and attached themselves to her neck.

Just as Camille began sucking on Clary’s pulse point, the elevator dinged and the doors opened to reveal Camille’s suite, if that could approximate the opulence before them. Pulling back, Camille smiled, incisors flashing as she moved to sprawl herself on a golden chaise. “Come.”

Clary slid once more onto Camille’s lap while Camille fused their lips together before trailing kisses down Clary’s jaw until she reached her collar and bit down. Hard. She jerked, but Camille held her fast and began soothing the bite with her tongue. “All right, pet?” Camille asked, eyes gleaming at Clary’s moan.

In response, Clary began attempting to remove Camille’s dress, a futile effort seeing as she couldn’t find the zipper, but it was better than meeting Camille’s smug gaze.

“Let me.” Gently, Camille pushed Clary off her lap and stood, unzipping the side of her dress and sliding it off her into a silken heap around her feet.

Clary stared at the sheer amount of skin revealed to her, seeing but not comprehending as her brain was overloaded by images of Camille clad in nothing but a lacy red bra and a matching slip.

Grinning, Camille traced her finger down Clary’s face before tilting her chin up, “My eyes are up here, dear.”

Clary didn’t respond, simply reaching out to pull Camille closer as Camille’s arms wrapped around her back.

“May I?” Camille asked, hand resting on the zipper holding Clary’s dress as well as her remaining shards of self-control and restraint together.

A beat, and then, “Please.”

Camille hummed, gently pulling the zipper down before spinning Clary around and pushing the dress off. Pulling her close, Camille’s hands began to wander up Clary’s front, teasing at the hem of the only thing keeping her from the burning at the apex of Clary’s legs. Clary gasped, hand winding behind her to tangle itself in blonde curls as she threw her head back, “Please.”

“I like it when you say that,” Camille murmured, “What else will you be begging me for tonight?”

“Anything you want,” Clary promised, “Just, please.”

“Hm,” Camille nudged Clary’s head until it tilted, and she caught the lobe of her ear with her mouth, “I like the sound of that.”

“Oh god,” Clary pushed herself back towards Camille, but the blonde simply moved away and around until she was facing Clary.

“Not god, but close.” Camille tilted Clary’s head up for another kiss before trailing away even as Clary’s lips chased after her for more. “Ah, ah, not yet. I want you on my bed. It’ll be delightful, I promise.” She turned, moving further into her apartment, and expecting Clary to follow.

And follow she did. They made their way down the largest hallway and Clary observed golden walls lined with priceless works of art, an intimidatingly large office and ominously closed doors, all of which led to a massive bedroom at the end of the hall.

Upon arriving, Camille promptly pushed Clary back until she fell onto the bed, fiery red locks splayed out onto decadent gold sheets. 

Moving between her legs, Camille stared down at Clary, fingertips trailing down her stomach, “This suits you.”

“What, me on your bed?”

Camille hummed, “No, you underneath me.” Without pause, Clary found Camille crawling up her body, a predator homing in on its prey. 

Clary found she didn’t mind playing at prey.

Starting once more from her neck, Camille began trailing kisses along Clary’s body, accompanied by the occasional bite. She focused her attention in places that made Clary gasp, hands moving to her breasts, sharp nips at her collarbones and long licks down her stomach until she finally settled between Clary’s legs. 

Clary’s hands fisted themselves into golden locks as Camille began to focus on her, losing herself to the pleasure as Camille became more determined to bring her over. Camille was as skilled a lover as she had made herself out to be, and Clary found herself tipping over the edge. Repeatedly. 

Eventually, she found it in herself to turn the tables, and Clary found that there was no sight in the world more beautiful than Camille Belcourt, head thrown back as an orgasm washed through her.

Again, over and over again, Camille pushed her until they collapsed onto silken sheets, exhaustion taking over. Rolling on to her side, Clary watched Camille lay out in bliss. Her eyes were closed, a self-satisfied smirk gracing her face as she stretched herself out before curling to face Clary like a cat that got the cream. Thrice. But who was counting.

“Everything alright, darling?” Camille reached out, finger tracing along Clary’s face, “You do not look like someone who just had nine orgasms.”

Laughing lightly, Clary shook her head, “It’s nothing.” But it wasn’t. The warm glow that had suffused her body as she began to come down from her high faded, instead replaced by guilt. Had the Clave really sent her to sleep with Camille before murdering her in cold blood? Was that what they had come to? No better than the very people they claimed they were fighting against. “Just tired, I guess.”

Or was it just Clary having these problems? Would someone like Izzy or Jace simply have stabbed Camille in the club and left, a quick kill before disappearing in the chaos? What did it say about Clary, that her first instinct was to sleep with the mark?

“Well I hope so. Even I would be surprised if you could keep going after everything.” Camille smiled before moving off the bed, “Well, I’m not cruel enough to kick you out now, so make yourself at home. For tonight, that is,” She moved towards a drawer, rifling through its contents before slipping on a robe and heading towards the door, “I have some work to catch up on.”

“Now?” Sitting up, Clary looked at Camille’s departing form.

“No rest for the wicked, my dear.” The door clicked shut.

Clary nodded, letting her body fall back down into the bed. It really was a magnificent bed. Murdering Camille Belcourt, she decided, would be a problem for future Clary.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first foray into writing in English again after a year long break, not to mention my first entry for this fandom and ship, but also I love them. And self-isolation is really encouraging me to write. There may or may not be a blonde/redhead superiority conspiracy fueling my writing, but that's not important. (Unless anyone wants to hear me scream about it I'm very ready to scream about it.)


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